The Idea of Fate
by shomarus
Summary: This cycle of hers is basically the same thing, over and over again. Piper's managed to find a somewhat comfortable routine to settle into since Nora came into her life, but even then there's always a few… issues, for lack of a better term, that need to be worked out. [Nora, Piper, and the way the world changes around them.]
1. this cycle of hers

Looks like the printing press is jammed up again from the sound of it—and the sound of Nat yelling at her to get out of bed and fix the damn thing, but that's an everyday occurrence.

Lazily, Piper Wright swings her feet off of her bed, rubs the sleep from her eyes. A messy swipe or two through her hair, the rest can be covered up by her trusty ol' newsy. In one elegant motion, her signature red coat is off of her desk chair and draped over her arms. She briefly considers grabbing a cigarette from next to her terminal before deciding it's not worth it, Nora'll pick her up and she won't get the chance to really enjoy the cigs. And if she doesn't get here soon, then Piper can always come back later.

This cycle of hers is basically the same thing, over and over again. Piper's managed to find a somewhat comfortable routine to settle into since Nora came into her life, but even then there's always a few… issues, for lack of a better term, that need to be worked out. She flies down the stairs and when she stops at the bottom, the breath she takes is involuntary.

Not that she'd ever admit it to Nat, but when Piper gets a real good look at the state of the presses, she wonders how many caps she's gonna have to shell out to buy a replacement. Sure, the old girl can keep churning for a while yet, but Piper's not exactly in the business of losing a finger trying to get the paper to run smooth again. Not quite in the mood to rip her hair out trying to figure how to solve the jam without breaking the damn thing either.

"Wonder how close she is to kicking the bucket," Nat remarks, peeking out from behind the corner. There's something like a smug look of knowing plastered on her face, and what Piper wouldn't do to wipe it right off. "Jam aside, that motor's loud enough to raise the dead. Y'sure we're not gonna be replacing it?"

Piper shrugs nonchalantly. "I'll fix it in my downtime. She'll be clunkin' for a while yet!" A jovial hand extends to ruffle Nat's hair. Looking miffed and somewhat offended, Nat smooths her hair back down. Piper laughs, because for how insufferable her smartass of a sister can be, it's moments like this that she truly enjoys. "Welp, I'm headin' out for the day. You be good when I'm not here, alright? I know you've got a penchant for trouble, just like your old sis, but try to keep out of it. We'll be back before you know it! Remember to ask the Rodriguez family if you need anything."

She's not quite sure why she's leaving so early. It's not like Nora's here, and it's definitely not like Piper's waiting for her in particular or anything like that. Piper could use the extra few minutes chatting it up with Takahashi. Oh, maybe she'll grab an extra pack of gumdrops from Myrna—She's already got a few stuffed in her coat for herself, but Nora seems to love those the most. God, look at her, taking note of what Nora likes and what she doesn't. It's almost a little silly, isn't it? Romantic in the most pathetic of ways.

"Yeah, yeah," Nat responds a little belatedly, only after she was sure that her hair was back in its proper position. "I'm gonna get all these papers handed out just so you'll be motivated to fix it faster," she decides with a proud puff of her chest.

"I'd like to see you try, squirt." And with that parting note, Piper strolls out the door, not a single care in the world.

Diamond City first thing in the morning is kind of the same as Diamond City the rest of the time, Piper finds. Good ol' DC; a reporter's haven, a tourist's nightmare. She kicks a stray pebble down her path and stuffs her hands into her pocket. Maybe she should have picked up the cig from back in her room, now that she thinks about it. Not that it would have mattered, she realizes, because her lighter's somewhere up in her room too. Her thumb presses into the leathery material of her gloves thoughtlessly.

She's about to truck it back to her room, but then the inevitable happens. She's already got one foot in the door when Blue speaks up, amused, "I only just arrived and you're already trying to run away from me?"

"Oh, 'course I am! With all the stuff you're putting poor ol' me through," Piper responds, pulling a 180 to face Blue. She smiles a toothy grin and immediately decides the smoke can wait. To be fair, just about anything can wait in the face of Blue. "Speaking of, what's on today's agenda?"

Blue always seems to have a destination in mind—a little funny, considering Piper's not even 100% sure she can tell Diamond City's ups from its downs—and she motions along to Piper to start following her. "Got a couple of folks in trouble in the downtown area. Hm. Let's see, would you rather beat up super mutants or deck a couple of raiders in the face? Take your time, they're both _very_ tantalizing offers."

Piper thinks about it with a grin. "Hm. Whatever's furthest away; let's walk."

* * *

It's the journeying that Piper finds herself enjoying the most. Just the two of them, with a quiet, scratchy little tune playing on Blue's wrist. Sometimes she listens to Diamond City Radio, and "for variety," she'd say with a grin, she might turn the radio to some classical tunes for a bit. And while all things never do, Classical Radio hardly lasts at all.

And sure, the music is great, but it's not Piper's favourite part of exploration. Hell, with all the kind of shit they pull, it couldn't even really come close. Piper likes to think it's the familiarity they share when they're travelling. Her and Blue, out on the road, busting up bloatflies and mucking up mole rats. Sounds like a dream, maybe even a little poetic.

In retrospect, it was kind of funny. Piper doesn't usually think that people can bond over killing things—or people, for that matter. But in the moment, Piper feels _real_ , alive and powerful. With Nora, with Blue by her side, she's unstoppable.

It shows when she's pistol whipping a super mutant in one moment and finishing the deed with a bullet the next. An ugly yell booms from somewhere behind her, and Piper almost laughs when she dodges out of the way. She thinks the super mutants would be a lot better at fighting if they didn't telegraph every attack with a battle-charging yell, but Piper knows she can't really say anything either with her own fair share of scars. Scars that Nora likes to chastise her for, but scars that Piper wears proudly, a sign of her victories.

Another bullet lodges itself into yet another super mutant, and soon enough they've got the floor cleaned. Or, more appropriately, the water soaked. … With super mutant blood, that is.

"You don't think it was the mutants that messed with the supply, do you?" Piper asks, staring down at her fingers before she decides to wipe the sweat off her brow (because blood is decidedly worse to have on her face).

"It probably was," Blue replies with a long sigh, stretching out her limbs. She takes a moment to reload her gun, "Don't know why they'd need to stop the supply, though. Does it even really matter? Well, whatever, just prepare yourself for one hell of an asskicking once we get inside."

Blue's saying that only makes her more wary when they're inside the treatment plant. It's dead silent, and dead silence rarely means anything good when there's super mutants involved. Sure, Piper knows a lot of things, but the fact that super mutants are obnoxiously loud is just plain common knowledge.

When they descend, Piper suddenly understands. "Ah, fuck."

"Huh?"

"Mirelurks," Piper says with a face. She peers into the glass and makes out the scuttling forms underneath the water. Blue looks into the glass after her and nods in a vague form of understanding. "Real nasty critters. You ever get into a tussle with one of them?"

"God, wouldn't you know it." Blue steps away from the glass. "I was out with Cait once—" Piper knows Cait, though she can't exactly say that she's pleased with the fact that she's been getting out with Nora more often. She's not quite sure why, though a reason that she doesn't like is tossed around in the back of her mind. "—and we were in the middle of some excavation gig in Goodneighbor. Nasty is right; thought they'd cut me straight in half. Funny too, considering they were Nate's favourite snack before he, uh. Well… Point is, the hunter becomes the hunted and it was supposed to be funnier than it actually came out, swearsies."

Blue does this thing a lot, mentioning her husband (ex-husband? Piper isn't even really sure if she's allowed to make that call) and then instantly recoiling. Piper tries not to comment on it too much out aloud, simply nod like she doesn't notice anything and then pretend everything's all hunky-dory. It's not, obviously, but it's the least Piper can do, right?

"Haven't decided if I hate fighting these things more than I hate fighting super mutants," Piper says instead. It's easier to fill up the awkward spaces with anecdotal comments than it is to actually suffer through them.

"Super mutants that can swim. Now _that's_ a scary thought," Blue remarks with the half-amused lilt that Piper has come to love so much. She smiles. "If we know what we're dealing with, at least we have an idea of how to move forward. How are you feeling?"

Piper examines her pistol. She looks to Blue, whose smile can even light up a run-down place like this. She reaches into her pocket and grabs a pack of gumdrops and drops them into Nora's hand. She winks, and that says enough.

* * *

Time really does fly when you're having fun. Or when you're killing mirelurks, but then again, Piper finds that both have a very similar meaning.

Blue groans when they step outside again. The sun's setting off in the distance, and Piper knows exactly why Blue is so apprehensive. She's mentioned it before, that she's never been good in the dark. Always more on edge, checking for the next thing that would startle her. Blue's as diurnal as they come. Piper used to make jokes about how she seems to be solar-powered, and although she stopped—Blue never seemed comfortable with them—she can't help but think there's more truth to those jokes than she thinks.

"I think I saw a few sleeping bags rolled out where the mutants were camping around," Piper says absentmindedly, holstering her weapon. There's some mirelurk blood that's caked on her skin, but considering the fact that a super mutant body is currently floating by them, Piper decides she'll wash up in a much cleaner body of water later. "If you don't mind sleeping in a place like this, that is."

"I'm pre-war, not a coward," Blue scoffs with mock offense. "I've slept in the Glowing Sea before, this can't be much worse than that."

"The Glowing Sea?" Piper repeats, incredulous. "Y'know what? The fact you made it to the actual, literal Crater of Atom is surprising on it's own, I don't know why I'm so shocked that you found a bed to sleep in. Really, I don't."

They climb up to observational tower (or what might have been one, if Piper felt that mutants had the ability to sit down and observe at all) and Nora slumps into one of the off-kilter chairs with a relieved groan. "Christ, sitting in one of these babies after hours of _that_ really makes you appreciate chairs, doesn't it?"

Piper laughs. "Imagine how it's gonna feel when your ass is in bed." She gestures to the single, pitifully small sleeping bag that sits in the middle of the room. "This is as good as it's gonna get."

"I'm surprised you're not jumping at the opportunity to get into this ol' thing," Blue says, jutting her finger in the direction of it. "You don't mind if we sleep in shifts, do you?"

Piper decides she doesn't need the sleep. "Not at all. I've got some note taking stuff I wanna do anyways, so get some sleep."

The last thing that Piper hears from Nora is a grateful 'thank you' muttered under her breath, then the rustling of her climbing into the sleeping bag. She's out like a light, almost instantly. That's another thing that Piper can admire about her, how she works herself to the bone for good causes. Never stopping until she's at her absolute limit.

Piper's also very appreciative of how cute Nora looks in her sleep.

Well. Piper rams the pen she produced from her sleeve against her forehead. Not to be a mess or anything like that, but Nora does always look particularly cute. And look at her go, being the exact thing she had sought out not to be—a total blithering idiot. She watches the rise and fall of Nora's chest, even from where she sits and finds that when she wishes to write about today's experiences, she can't.

Journalists aren't supposed to get writer's block, so Piper figures she's distracted. Or tired. Or both, and considering the way things had been going for her, both is a pretty fair description of the situation. Piper leans over and grabs the chair that Blue'd been previously sitting in, arranging it into a makeshift chair. If she woke up and saw her, then Nora might be mad.

Personally, Piper's fine with it. She's slept in some pretty uncomfortable places (Diamond City jail comes to mind) and it's not like a row of chairs is gonna be any worse than a couch. A bony couch. A really uncomfortable, bony couch.

Piper finds a way to fall asleep anyways.


	2. a cruel twist of fate

Looks like the printing press is jammed up again from the sound of it—and the sound of Nat yelling at her to get out of bed and fix the damn thing, but that's an everyday occurrence.

Lazily, Piper Wright swings her feet off of her bed, rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Huh," she mutters under her breath. Looks like she wore her gloves _and_ her coat to bed. How tired had she been the previous night to wear her _gloves_ overnight, of all things? Piper examines her mattress, now stained with dark brown patches. She's not quite sure if she's looking at dirt or blood; she'll be mildly disappointed if it's the former and genuinely terrified if it's the latter.

Whatever the case is, she supposes that a change of bedding's been a long time coming. Not that Piper's a priss about where she chooses to sleep, 'course not. After a moment of thought, she pulls the carton of cigarettes out from her drawer and the lighter next to it. Stuffing them into her pockets, she decides she'll get a good smoke in while she's waiting for Nora.

Just a small blip in this cycle of hers. Piper's managed to find a somewhat comfortable routine to settle into since Nora came into her life, but even then there's always a few… issues, for lack of a better term, that need to be worked out. She flies down the stairs and when she stops at the bottom, the breath she takes is involuntary.

Damn motor's smoking. That's what she gets for leaving it for too long, but it's an alarming sight nonetheless. As someone who has zero experience fixing engines, Piper decides she's just gonna toss the printing press. Like _hell_ she's going to lose the Publick because she touched the wrong thing and then the house caught fire (or worse, Piper caught fire). Her escapades with Nora have left her little time for writing a new issue of Publick Occurrences, so the timing is at least convenient.

"Told you she was gonna go soon," Nat remarks with a dry tone, poking her head out from behind the corner. "Now she's about as useful as the outside press."

"Don't remind me," Piper says, reaching over to turn it off. The last press had gone out in a way that was horrifyingly similar to this, Natalie telling her she has to replace something and Piper not heeding a single word. She lets out a sigh, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. I'll handwrite the damn paper if I have to." Of course she means it, but it's not like she's going to be confident in the quality of a handwritten paper.

Nat seems to agree, "Why bother? I love you sis, but your handwriting is chicken scratch and we both know it."

"Ouch," Piper whistles a low note, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. "Welp, you're right about that. I'll see if I can get someone to take a look at it. Y'know, someone who's not as garbage with machines as I am? We'll work it out."

Nat gives a disbelieving snort and shrugs. "Isn't your gal pal coming over today?" She pushes off one of her toy cars with the toe of her foot and they both watch as it crashes into the wall. Piper opens her mouth, perhaps to say something about Nat's particular use of the term 'gal pal', or maybe to ask how the hell she knew. Nat interrupts her with a smug smile, "Don't ask, the answer is that you wouldn't shut up about it for weeks. Maybe while you're out there, you can pick up a motor for the ol' press? Or maybe Nora can make us a new one!"

The last set of words are said without any underlying sarcasm, maybe with a bit of genuine excitement. Piper fondly remembers the time that Nora swung by their house, bearing a small rocket ship model fashioned out of bits of scrap that Piper had once frowned at her for picking up. Her Blue was a crafty gal, and coincidentally the only person that she knew who could make a stimpak out of fucking _toothpaste_.

"Yeah, she's comin'. Which means I gotta head out for the day, so stay good while I'm out, won't you?" Piper reaches out to touch Nat's hair, though her sister dodges instinctively. She can't resist the smile that shoots up her lips, sly and proud all in the same twinge of muscle. With that endearing interaction tucked into her memories, Piper makes a casual stroll out into Diamond City.

Diamond City first thing in the morning is kind of the same as Diamond City the rest of the time, Piper finds. Good ol' DC; a reporter's haven, a tourist's nightmare. She kicks a stray pebble down her path and stuffs her hands into her pocket to grab the carton of cigarettes. She tries not to smoke around Natalie, but in the end she knows that there are worst ways to die out in the 'Wealth than self-induced lung cancer.

She's already onto her second cig when Nora approaches. Immediately, Piper notices that something's up—Nora doesn't walk with the lighthearted step that Piper has familiarized herself with. And her face is set hard, concentrated. "Come with me," she says, without any of the witty banter that Piper expects. It's jarring, concerning; maybe even a little hurtful.

Feeling ridiculously awkward, Piper grinds out her cigarette. "Y… Yeah, sure." Not even a sly comment about Piper's smoking habit? It's a shame; she has the perfect comeback to something like that as well, but Nora's behaviour is making her worried. She switches the tone of conversation, forcing her voice to sound optimistic as it always is. "What's on today's agenda, Blue?"  
Then Nora does the craziest thing. Nothing at all.

No asking Piper what she wants to do. Not even a matter-of-fact account of some stupid quest she picked up when Piper wasn't around. Sure, she was the steely reporter who cared more about the truth than the emotions of the people around her, but it didn't mean she wanted to be excluded from Nora's thoughts.

Especially not when she was expected to be travelling with her.  
"Is something wrong, Blue?" _Cut the nicknames, Piper. Let her know you're serious._ But she's a coward, so she can only continue in sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand motions. "Not even a fucking greeting from you, huh?"

Not only a coward, but an extremely emotional one at that. The emotion bleeds through her voice, and Piper realizes the silliness of it, the futility. Sensitive, sensitive. An overreaction for some kind of shitty soap opera, and she wonders when it is she has grown to be like this.

But it gets Nora to pause.

"Oh?" It's simple, it's small, but Piper can hear the inflection of interest playing in Nora's voice. "Oh," she repeats, and turns around with the guiltiest of expressions. Piper bites back a comment about knowing guiltier guys. "I'm sorry, Piper. It's been—it's been some kind of fucking day."

Piper sniffs the air and leans back. Her arms cross against her chest, as though she were truly angry in the first place. Dryly, she adds, "You can make it up to me with celebratory Takahashi's. And yes, you're the one who's going to be paying."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Nora grins.

* * *

Today they are tracking down a courser.

Of course, just because they're looking for _synths_ doesn't mean that they're going to find other nasties out in the Commonwealth while trying to do so. Piper violently kicks a ghoul off her leg and puts a bullet through the skull just for good measure. "Yeesh," she mutters loudly. There's a sickening crunch somewhere to the left of her and Nora slings a blooded swatter over her shoulder.

"Home run!" she says with all the slickness of one of those pre-war cartoon heroes Piper's read about. When she attempts to point the swatter towards the sun with a single hand, Piper grins and shakes her head. Nora's taken a liking to melee weapons, something with some real weight to it. Piper herself doesn't understand—she'd rather be safe with her trusty 10mm in her hand.

Then there's the whole issue of the amount of injuries that Nora sustains. Not worth a quick fight, in Piper's (only somewhat) trusted opinion. The way she's going, Piper figures Dr. Sun'll become the richest goddamn man in Diamond City.

"Pinging get any louder?" Piper asks, peering over to look at Nora's Pip-Boy. She could make a thousand comments on the sheer ingeniousness of the Institute, hiding signals through radio waves, but she'll admit half the terminology sounds like jargon to her.

"It looks like it's coming from up here," Nora says while pointing the Pip-Boy out to the building westward. "Greenetech Genetics."  
Piper doesn't know enough about the areas that aren't Boston to say the name rings any particular bells. Idly, she stares at a nick in her gun. She's been running after the mere promise of synths for years, and in the span of a week— _at best_ —it feels like she'll go dizzy with every bit of information she's learned.

Nora asks first, "You ready for this?"

She's not sure, but since when has Piper accomplished anything by being ready?

* * *

"Maybe you shouldn't be wearing a flimsy leather trench coat to a gunfight, Piper."

"Yeah, yeah," Piper waves her off with a pained groan. "Can you just stick the needle in me so we can get this over with?"

Nora doesn't look particularly happy with her, but she grabs a stimpak from her pack anyways. It's ridiculous that Piper's grown desensitized to literally being sprayed with bullets, but she supposes that's a good thing. It means the stimpaks are doing their job. The wounds close with frightening speed, and the pain vanishes just as quick. A breathy, pleasant sigh escapes her.

Looks like a pack of Gunners were after the same thing that they were after, the Courser. Though another announcement over the intercoms tells Piper that they're not exactly the best at carrying out their jobs. Really sucks that they had to engage in combat while trying to climb this damn tower, but so far everything's been alright. Piper stands up and shakes out her arm, feeling the sore muscle.

"Hold up for a moment," Nora says, and Piper watches as she makes her way over to a locked explosion box. A jiggle or two with a few bobby pins and the case is opened, Nora brandishing her prize with an impish smile. _How clever_ , Piper thinks proudly. Then, more boldly, _She's beautiful_.

"... Can we wait here for just a second? I want to make sure that I've healed up properly," Piper picks at the torn edge of her gloves for just a second, a sudden wave of awkwardness heating her cheeks. It's silly to think of such things now, in the middle of a gunfight, but they seem relatively safe in this little room. Just a second. It'll only be a minute.

Nora shrugs nonchalantly, then spins around to face Piper. "Something on your mind?" she asks. Piper is made aware of the way Nora flips her hair over her shoulder mildmanneredly, a delicate hand on her hip.

"Man, I wouldn't know where I'd even start," Piper quips, though even she hears the small quaver in her voice. It's starting to feel less silly, maybe a little more stupid in its stead. "I dunno, it's not really a big deal. I'm just—I'm kind of…" Yet again, she trails off. What is there to say? What can she even say, when Nora is looking at her so expectantly?

Piper looks away. It's best to derail.

"My sister," she blurts out.

Nora seems surprised, and it's not like Piper blames her. "Natalie?" she asks, cocking her head to the side. "Well, I like her. Lots of spunk. What about her?"

This is a conversation that Piper can fall into easily. She can pretend like this has been the plan all along. And it's not like this train of thought isn't something that's been plaguing Piper for a while, either.

"I think the whole 'lots of spunk' deal-io might be where the issue lies," she says with a laugh. It is easy to go down this train of thought. The words tumble out as though they have been there all along. "And travelling with you. It's made me realize some things, things about myself and things about the way we live. This kind of lifestyle isn't for everyone, and I think that Nat's looking up to me when she shouldn't. You—You understand, don't you?"

Nora nods. "Yes, I understand completely. There are people out there in the Commonwealth who speak of being inspired by me, but they never see gritty moments like this," she gestures around the room. Piper nods. She can hear footfalls of steps up above them, angered yelling. They should really move on, really keep pushing, but she's in so deep already.

"Yeah, and I don't know. I just want to keep her safe." It's contrived, it's cliche. It is easy to fall, and she how she hates herself so for doing it. The yelling grows louder. "I don't know what to do."

Nora hums a low note of acknowledgement, and she breaks gaze with Piper, and slowly circles around the room. She stops at the entrance and turns again. "You've spoken to her about this?"

Then Piper feels stupid. "No, I admit I haven't, but—" Suddenly, she stops.

The shadow behind Nora stops too.

She's frozen in place as the Gunner raises his missile launcher. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registers that this is it. For all of their adventures, their shared laughter and pain, it will be ended by a single man wielding a single gun. It is an unsatisfying end, Piper realizes, and then she is desperate to do something, _anything_ to change the course of fate. Nora, her Blue, she can't die like this.

But through Piper's screaming of her name and a violent explosion, Nora dies anyway.

She is blinded by a hot light and searing heat threatens to burn the very ends of Piper's nerves. When the light fades, Piper is left with the cruel image of Nora strewn across the room. Her heart rises to her throat and drops like a pin, and she's going to throw up, _oh god she's going to throw up_. The killer is frozen in place, but if it is with guilt or with a curious sense of victory, Piper does not care, not enough to look up.

Nora is dead.

She is dead, and Piper is not. The world is unbelievably cruel.

When her eyes close, everything becomes dark. It is cold here, compared to the warmth of before. A calculating void where Piper sees nothing, hears nothing, but feels everything. A fade of brilliant green beyond the edge of her peripheral, and Piper is certain that the Gunner has shot her, that she has died after Nora, and nothing is left for her. Is this what 'peace' is supposed to be? What a sick definition. There is nothing, nothing at all.

* * *

But when she blinks, Nora is alive.

Alive, and acting as though nothing has happened. There is no guts streaking the floor, there is no heat radiating from a body that doesn't exist. The frozen killer is nonexistent, and Piper is oddly cold. Nora's face is real, soft, and she looks concerned, maybe even a little bored. It's such a Nora expression to have. Piper blinks again.

"... Piper, you good? You spaced out there for a minute."

That's her voice. Piper wonders if this is what the afterlife is, reliving her final moments in some sort of hellish cycle. "You died," she says simply, a shaky finger extending to point at Nora. "Was that—that a fever dream? You were _dead_. Nothing left but bits of cloth and flesh. But you're here, you're alive. And there's no way I'm in Limbo—things like that don't exist here. I'm not…" Crazy? Piper's starting to feel like she might be a little crazy.

Nora frowns and takes a concerned few steps towards her and _God_ , Piper thinks, _she's safe and away from the door._ "Christ, Piper. You haven't been taking chems in my absence, have you?" she asks. Piper scans her voice for coy amusement, a gentle prodding. There is nothing but concern.

"No, never. Hah, I'm going batshit, aren't I?" she mutters, more to herself than anyone else. Nora raises an eyebrow and takes another few steps, before placing a tentative hand over Piper's shoulder. Piper's hands cover over Nora's, to feel the warmth, the affirmation that this is real and nobody has truly died. And stupidly enough, amongst all of the other bits of stupid this day had offered her, Piper begins to cry. "Fuck. I really thought that you were gone there, Blue." The words are whispered with a shaky sob ghosting her voice.

"I'm here," Nora says. The words are awkward, half-baked, but Piper feels a certain comfort and warmth spread through her. "I'm alive, and so are you." Then she's pulled into a hug and Piper's emotions spill over.

They stay like that for a while and it's nice. There's no angry shouting. There's no hurried footsteps. If the ever-present fear of Nora's immediate demise didn't exist, then Piper might choose to stay like this forever.

Until, of course, Nora ruins it by whispering into her ear, "I knew you cared, but not that much. Man, Piper, you must _really_ like me."

Sure, it's true, but Piper swats at Nora playfully anyway.

* * *

They got the courser chip and Piper's back at home. Nora had decided to escort her back to Diamond City, half because it was late and half because Nora spoke of needing to hit up the Surplus, so it was convenient for the both of them.

Of course, they didn't speak about the incident, but it's not like Piper stops thinking about it. So when she's left alone with Nora going to explore the city, Piper decides there are things she needs to find out. Even when she's not donning the newscap and her red coat, she can't stop being the nosy little reporter who has to piece everything together. She's already ruled out chems, because she's checked the house thrice over (and realized how ridiculous she is for doing so, because there's no such thing as chems that make you _forget_ having taken them—so she desperately hopes).

Everything else she imagines is implausible and unlikely. There's no way to mince words—Piper's just not sure what the fuck happened.

When Piper turns the page, there's an unfamiliar set of notes for an article she _must_ have planned at some point. It's something about mirelurks, super mutants, a robot-controlled settlement and a treatment plant, and Piper frowns.

None of this happened.

It's very clearly Piper's own handwriting, and it's very clearly an account of her own experiences. Nevermind the fact that she can't remember having done any of this. The most silly thing of all? It's dated for today. She simply closes the book; she doesn't have the mental capacity to deal with this on top of everything else.

Piper sets her notebook down and turns towards the true unsung hero of her life; Takahashi's cup noodles. The noodles might taste better if Nora was by her side, though she immediately swats that thought away in all of its silliness. It's kind of justifiable if Nora decides she wants to give Piper space. After that freak out? Yeah.

Truthfully, all she wants now is a hot bath, to finish her cup noodles, and perhaps to get a little bit of sleep on.

Unfortunately, a bath of any sort isn't exactly possible when there's no plumbing in the house, so she shovels down her food and tosses the bowl somewhere she'll pick it up from in the morning.

Her couch is not an ideal sleeping place, but it seems infinitely warm and inviting from where she sits. So she lays back down and shrugs her coat over her in the form of a makeshift blanket. It's possible, very possible, that she'll regret this in the morning, or that Nat will chastise her for sleeping in the worst possible spot in the Publick, with the possible exception of the floor. Both is the more likely situation, but Piper figures that in the end, she'll be fine. She's slept in worse.

So she closes her eyes and lets the thoughts of today wash away from her mind.


End file.
